


The Lord and the Prince

by antichristandanarchy



Category: DCU, WW84 - Fandom, Wonder Woman - All Media Types, Wonder Woman 84
Genre: Blame Pedro pascal for this abomination, DC comics - Freeform, F/M, PTSD, Panic Attacks, listen I never thought I’d write DC fanfic but here we are, no one asked for this, redemption arc, thats a lie someone did ask for this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:40:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28401051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antichristandanarchy/pseuds/antichristandanarchy
Summary: “Let me tell you what I think is going to happen to you, Maxwell. You’ve definitely lost your job and any customer loyalty you gathered before. You never had a solid flow of income, in the first place, and now, that’s going to become a big problem, no?” she took a sip of her water, clearing her throat. “I give you two or three weeks before you are evicted, and I can’t bring myself to see you and your son in that position. I am going to open my flat to you now, whether or not you want to take that opportunity?”“That’s up to you.”
Relationships: Diana (Wonder Woman)/Maxwell Lord, Diana Prince/Maxwell Lord
Comments: 10
Kudos: 51





	1. I

_I’ll never love again._

That was what Diana had told —no, _promised_ — Steve, one of the last things she had ever said to her love, in the moments before she'd lost him for good, before she'd renounced her wish. She planned to keep it.

She was weak. She shouldn't have been weak—but at this point, it was understandable. Sobbing to the world, begging for their philanthropy, not to mention swimming in water ripe and sparkling with livewire. Even she, with her father’s gentile on her side, couldn't escape unscathed, even if it was just a tad of exhaustion. Her feet stung as she dragged them, slowly making her way out of that godforsaken broadcasting center and into the slowly re-emerging sunlight.

Remnants of, 'I wish, I wish, _I wish_ ,’ ran through her pounding head, the voices a horrid reminder of her misstep, her careless handling of that damned stone. She needed sleep. Rest. She needed to check on Barbara—she needed to check on Max. She needed to fix everything. But Barbara was closest. Then would come Max, and finally, rest.

Barbara was still sitting on the dock, alive, but bristling with electricity. Diana slowly approached her, grimacing at the way she flinched.

“Barbara?” She asked, her voice hoarse from screaming and fighting the wind.

“Are you going to kill me?” Were the first words that spilled from her lips. She didn't move, she seemed far too weak. Diana gave her a disheartened sigh, kneeling down beside her.

“Give me your hand, Barbara,” she encouraged. “You need to transfer all of that electricity out of you.”

“What, the electricity that you put into me?” She mumbled. It came out much lower, much quieter, than the princess assumed as its intent.

“You know why I did that,” Diana scolded, taking her hand. She felt the sparks rack around in her own armor, before it finally scorched the deck below her. She shook the sensation off, sighing softly.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry for everything this put you through. The stone had an allure that cannot be resisted by most. I…suppose I owe both you and Maxwell an explanation, but that can come later. For now, we go home, and we rest.”

‘Home,’ that seemed silly to say. Where was home right now? “Do you know if the jet that you and Max took to get here, do you know if it’s still around?”

“Yeah,” Barbara scoffed, rubbing her eyes, smearing the dark liner below it. “Whether or not the pilot has abandoned ship, that’s a different story.” Diana considered that, raising a brow. She could attempt to fly it. What was it, Steve had said? She knew she had repeated it, on her way here. She couldn’t rack her head for it right now.

“That’s okay. Let’s get you there, then I can find Max.”

Hauling her own weight there was hard enough, and now she was dealing with Barb’s on top of that. There was a definite limp on her step, but she was doing her damndest not to let it show. She had renounced her wish, yes, but it seemed as though there were lingering effects.

They got to the jet, empty as predicted. Diana carefully secured her in a seat, making sure she was as comfortable as possible in there. “I’ll be back,” she promised. As she turned on her gold-plated heel, she heard a small voice, so quiet, she could have imagined it.

“Thank you,” she said.

“For what?” Diana chuckled.

“For still caring enough to save me… even after I tried to kill you and end the world.”

Diana only smiled before turning away, chuckling softly. She did always appreciate gratitude, especially of this caliber. But apologies could wait, thanks could wait. For now, she trudged through the mud, her eyes scanning the area, her ears twitching at every sound, searching for a voice.

Then she found two.

She found Maxwell in his son in a clearing, sobbing and holding each other tightly. She had to smile fondly, placing a hand on her hip. Alastair seemed to notice her observing, though his father was none the wiser until she cleared her throat in a pointed fashion.

“Maxwell,” she greeted.

“Diana!” The man flinched, clearly not hearing her sneak up on them. She caught a hint of an accent as he quickly stood, spinning to face her. “Diana,” he dusted himself off. “Oh, man.”

“I'm guessing a lot of people want to kill you right now, Lord,” she remarked. “Come on, let’s get back to the city. You and I need to have a chat.”

—

“What… are you, anyways?” Max asked. He was sat beside her in the cockpit of the jet, Barbara and Alistair knocked out cold in the passenger carrier.

“What do you mean?” She asked nonchalantly. She'd figured out how to fly the jet decently, and they were almost back to the city center.

“I mean, _what are you?_ I mean, that lasso of yours, whatever the hell Barbara became when she asked to be like _you._ You know what I'm asking you. Don't play dumb with me, Prince.”

She frowned, her eyes flicking down as long as she could allow them. “I know what you're asking me. And I owe you an answer. But I owe you an answer in private, when Barbara is well rested and able to hear it too. You’ll get your answers, Max, but I need you to be patient,” she explained gently. He watched her in wonder. She was still so soft, so kind, after what had happened. “We all need food, too. We can discuss everything over that, how does that sound?”

Max didn't answer. He just nodded.

Yes, Diana felt guilty for hiding her nature from them, but it was simply a part of life. No one actually bothered to peel back the façade.

It wasn't a good dinner. It was leftovers in Diana’s flat, the four of them sat at a table meant for eight. She’d removed and carefully packed away her mother’s armor, now in much more comfortable pajamas covered with a silk robe.

“So…” Barbara mumbled. “You gonna talk?” She asked.

Diana sighed gently, setting her fork down. She glanced up, her smile somewhere crossed between apologetic and nervous. “You may know my father,” she began. “Well, you may know of him. Barbara, you dabble in myth, do you not?”

“I… do,” she frowned. “What about it?”

“Recall the story of Zeus and Hippolyta,” she instructed.

“The Amazon queen,” Barbara shook her head. “I fail to see where you're going with this.”

“Mm,” she shook her head. “Zeus was known for having many children with humans, Hippolyta was one of them. They had a daughter, and she named her Diana—Princess Diana of Themyscira.”

“Are you saying—” Maxwell began, but she wouldn't let him finish that.

“I left when I was about eight hundred, something to that tune. I've been here since.”

“Eight hundred, huh?” Barbara murmured. “You don't look a day over sixty.”

“Thank you,” she chuckled. “I'm nine-hundred-thirty-four, now.”

“Oh, Jesus.”

“In any case,” Diana sighed, “I've quite enjoyed my time outside of Themyscira. I suppose that is all there is to know.”

“All there is to know,” Maxwell scoffed. “If this were any other day, and I _didn’t_ just see you do all of the shit that I did, I’d be half-inclined to drag you to a mental hospital.”

“But, you won’t, I’ve proven myself to be no liar,” she teased. “You, on the other hand?” Maxwell shrunk under her narrow gaze. “Let me tell you what I think is going to happen to you, Maxwell. You’ve definitely lost your job and any customer loyalty you gathered before. You never had a solid flow of income, in the first place, and now, that’s going to become a big problem, no?” she took a sip of her water, clearing her throat. “I give you two or three weeks before you are evicted, and I can’t bring myself to see you and your son in that position. I am going to open my flat to you now, whether or not you want to take that opportunity, it’s up to you.”

He stared at the princess in awe for a moment, then two. “You’d let me do that after trying to kill you, is that what I’m hearing?”

“I don’t think it was you trying to kill me,” she explained simply. “It was the stone. I was a threat. You were under its complete control, until just now. The stone tried to kill me, Max. You? You are completely harmless to a woman like me.” she tossed her hair behind her shoulder. “Besides, I heard you out there, in that clearing. You know you made a mistake, you were big enough to admit it. Besides, if I truly couldn’t trust you, I could just tie you up and ask whether or not you want to hurt me, and I have my answer.”

Max’s face went red. “What the hell does that have to do with tying me up?”

Diana stared for a moment or two before it hit her. “Not like that!” she scoffed. “My lasso, the golden one. It acts like a truth serum. I ask a question, you have no choice but to tell the truth. Hence, the, _’I’ve proven myself to be no liar’._ Don’t tell me that joke went right over your head.

“It definitely did,” he shrugged.

“You are impossible,” she chuckled. “The point being, now that we have all aired our dirty laundry…My offer stands.”

“I won’t have to take it, princess.”

“If you’re going to call me that, I’d recommend you use my full title.


	2. II

He did, in fact, take her up on it.

It was exactly a week and a half later when he and Alistair showed up at her door with suitcases in tow. “I know, I know,” Max put his hand up. “You told一”

“I told you so,” she finished, before he could spoil her fun. She said it with a sincere smile, though, and held the door open as she had promised. “I’m sorry, I had to.” Max could hear just how _Greek_ her accent was now, now that he knew what dialect he was looking for. He had half a mind to ask her if she spoke it but of course she did. She knew latin, and she was the daughter of Zeus, of course she knew Greek.

He didn’t think he’d ever get over how lavish Diana lived. And this was her commoner’s life. He supposed she had over a century in the modern world to accumulate wealth, whereas most millionaires could do it in thirty. Not to mention the wealth she came from. This was always what he had wanted. Once upon a time, he had only wanted it for his son. He didn’t think he could honestly say that, not anymore. In any case, he wouldn’t achieve it, not now. He’d spend the rest of his life working menial office jobs, ones that required no trust. Maybe one day he’d be able to convince people that he wasn’t the one in control that week. But the wound was still fresh and bleeding. On him, on his pockets, on the world.

And then there was Diana herself, who seemed to be everything he could ever dream of. Secure, strong, wealthy, intelligent… Barbara was definitely onto something with her wish.

Fucking oil scams.

The first few weeks were about as awkward as you’d expect them to be. He certainly couldn’t feel at home, not when he, essentially a stranger, just invaded her life entirely. But it had been going okay. Life was good.

It could have been better.

At half past three in the morning, Max woke with an ache on the right side of his face. He let out a short groan, rubbing his eye.

_Um, ow._

His hand jerked away from his face once he noted that that一that hurt. He blinked several times, willing his eyes to adjust to the darkness. The right one never did. It was too red. Too…

Bloody.

Panic shot up his back as he scrambled out of bed. His topsheet was tangled around his legs, and his quick motions just about made him fall over with it. He slammed his palm against the bathroom’s lightswitch, just barely upwards of center, to turn it on. He was still seeing red.

The sadly familiar look of blood flooding that eye, it was back.

_No, it couldn’t be back. He couldn’t be bleeding again. He’d renounced his wish. It should have been over._

Maxwell’s breath was ragged and fast, too fast一he was dizzy. He tried to catch the edge of the counter as he fell, only getting to the point that he could hit the wall with his shoulder and back, rather than his face, and sink to the ground. He had a hand covering his right eye. Whether he didn’t want to see it, or didn’t want to see _out_ of it, he couldn’t tell. But it was too much. When had he begun crying? When had the cries turned to sobs, to oh god, he couldn’t _breathe_. He could hardly remember where he was, how he’d gotten here. Everything was so loud, yet it was all silent as death itself. The wound of the door creaking open made him jump. It was so sudden, so _deafening_. Almost as deafening as the silence it had replaced.

“Max?” Diana’s voice was distant and groggy, heavy with sleep, heavier with the shaking of his pounding head. He could hardly recognize his own name from her lips, everything was so muddled. “Max, are you okay?”

“ _Get away from me!_ ” it was all he could come up with, holding his free hand up to keep her back. If it was coming back, what else would come back? What if he hurt Diana, what if he hurt Alistair? Oh, god, he couldn’t go through this again. What if he had to? “Stay… stay back, I一” Diana took a step closer, the sound of her bare feet against the tile even too much for his current state. Too loud. “I said _stay back!_ ” his normal, careful way of hiding his accent was all but gone now, though any sort of specific dialect was bound to be drowned out by his crying. “I don’t want to hurt you, Diana, stay away!”

“Max,” she coaxed gently. “Max, I need you to tell me what’s wrong. Why do you think you’re going to hurt me?” nothing but a string of stammers and sobs answered her. She’d dealt with many panic attacks in her time. “You are Maxwell Lord, I am Diana Prince, yes? We’re in my flat, and your son, Alistair, is safe and asleep in bed. It’s morning. You are here. May I touch you?” her voice was as soothing as she could get it.

“ _No! _” he shouted. So she didn’t. She plopped herself down on the shag bathmat across from him. She tried something else.__

“I am Diana, daughter of Zeus and Hippolyta, Princess of Themyscira. You can’t hurt me, even if you wanted to. Neither can you hurt your son, because I sit between you. Now, tell me your name.”

It took him a moment to spit it out. “Max… Maxwell, Lord. Lorenzano.”

“Where do you come from?”

“Santiago,” his voice was steadying, though still thick with tears.

“What is your son’s name?”

“Alistair Lorenzano.”

“Where does he come from?”

“Washington…”

“What is my name?”

“Diana Prince.”

“And I come from…”

“Fuck,” he whispered, “Greece?” it managed a little smile from him, just as she hoped.

“Close enough,” she chuckled, nodding. “Now, may I touch you?”

No verbal response, but he nodded. She placed one gentle hand on his shoulder, the other wrapping around his wrist to remove his hand from his eye. She gave him a lopsided smile when she saw what exactly he was so scared of. “Lay down, on your right.”

As he adjusted himself to do just that, she rose to her feet, shuffling through the medicine cabinet above the sink to find a stack of paper cups. She filled one with lukewarm water, before kneeling beside him. “This is gonna feel weird,” she warned, proceeding to pour it onto the left side of his nose. It dripped into his bloodied eye, which made him flinch, but soon enough, his vision was clear, all that was left a puddle of reddish water beside him. She wiped it up, helping him to sit up and sitting down beside him. “You fear it’s coming back.” she raised her arm, happy that he leaned into her just as quickly. She draped her hand over his shoulder.

“I一I renounced my wish,” his voice was trembling. “It should go away, but what if, oh god, it’s gonna happen again, and I’m gonna lose control again, and I’m gonna hurt people… I…”

“I find it leaves some effects,” she sighed. “My head has been hurting lately. That’s never happened before. But My wish is long gone, as is yours. That stone is just a hunk of citrine now, Max. Nothing more. We’ve made our mistakes, and they will follow us, I think. But for now, we lie in wait.” she pat his shoulder with the hand that sat there, sighing gently. “Take the time you need.”

Max huffed quietly, nodding and shutting his eyes tightly. No more blood. It still ached. He moved around, if only slightly, to rest his head on her chest. Her heartbeat was something steady, something to pace his breathing to. And, cheesy as it was, it helped him know she was alive. He didn’t do anything.

Well, not yet, at least.

“Thank you, Princess,” he forced a laugh. The accent to hide his own reappeared.

“Why do you do that?” she asked, absentmindedly running her nails over his back.

“What, call you Princess?”

“No. you… force an accent.”

“Just business, Diana.”

“You don’t have much to lose, Lord.”

“Call it force of habit,” he muttered. “Something like that.”

“I like your regular accent,” she decided. “You should use it more often.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer that I have no clue where this version of Lord is from but Pascal is from Santiago so I rolled with it


End file.
